Fate and the Faithful
by BruHaeven
Summary: "They call him the wolf boy," Malon whispered to her excitedly, "and they say he lives in the Lost Woods around Kokiri forest." One dare, two destinies, and a fate that keeps on ticking down like the hands of a clock. ZeLink. AUish.


**Prompt: Until next time**

 **Setting: Kind of AU, kind of not. Set in the OoT world, after Zelda sends Link back in time. Enjoy!**

.xxx.

She was twelve years old when she met him, again and for the first time. Though he was no more than a splash of green amongst a sea of forest brown, a silent slip of a boy, the Wisdom she tried so hard to ignore, embedded within her very soul whispered: _He would die with this world a hundred times just to see it live one more day._

And so would she. So would they both.

Perhaps they already had.

.xxx.

"They call him the wolf boy," Malon whispered to her excitedly, "and they say he lives in the Lost Woods around Kokiri forest."

"Wolf boy?" Zelda asked, eyes wide in her small face as her friend nodded enthusiastically.

"Yup! They say he can walk without making a sound. He sneaks up behind you and snaps your neck!" Here, Malon dramatically mimed the action, contorting her pretty features into a hideous snarl. "And then he skins you alive, and suuuucks the marrow from your bones, and gobbles you up for dinner!"

"You're lying," Zelda scoffed, crossing thin arms and turning away from the redhead. The market place was bustling with shoppers and vendors as bright sunshine streamed across the cobblestones in buttery streaks. Even in the warmth of a Hyrulean summer day, Zelda felt gooseflesh ripple into existence along her arms. She was not scared, she was _not._ She had turned twelve years old that summer and she was brave.

"Am not," Malon stuck her tongue out.

"Are, too!"

"Am not!"

"Are, too!" Zelda was about to stomp her foot, the indignity of it be cursed, when a strong hand landed on her shoulder and a tall shadow loomed into view, towering over her smaller one.

"Your Highness." The voice was flat and stern, and Zelda had to hold back a wince. Even under the hood of her thick cloak, she was sure her guardian would sense it, and it didn't bode well to show weakness in front of the woman above her.

"Impa…" She sighed, knowing she'd been caught, and badly at that.

"Did we not have an agreement that you would only leave the castle with express permission from me? Sneaking out does not seem to fall under your promise." Zelda didn't even have to look at her body guard/handmaid/mother hen to know that she was wearing a terrifying frown.

"Sorry, Miss Impa!" Malon smiled cheerily, scratching her cheek. "It was my fault, really. I dared Zelda she couldn't sneak out without you noticing and… well, Zel, looks like you owe me five rupees and an invitation to the next ball!"

How Malon could look Impa in the eye and tell such a bald-faced lie without stuttering or cowering in fear, Zelda would never understand. Malon always bragged that it was because she was a year older than the princess, but Zelda was pretty sure it was just because Malon was stupid. You didn't lie to Impa, you just didn't.

With a wounded look, Zelda handed over a blue rupee. Malon was a jerk, but she was still her friend—her best friend—and Zelda supposed it was better for Malon to take the blame than her, even if Impa would expose the lie as soon as they were back at the castle.

"Well, Miss Romani, if you and the princess are finished with your business, we must be getting back to the castle. And I'm sure your father is snoring away somewhere and in need of a wake-up call by now." With little more than a glance at the two girls, Impa turned on her heel, leaving Zelda to follow in her wake. She waved an apologetic hand over her shoulder at Malon, who shrugged in understanding, and scurried to catch the tall Sheikah. Impa did not lessen her long strides for the young princess, and Zelda huffed to keep pace.

"Now then, Highness, would you care to tell me why you really left the castle without telling me." With a flick of her wrist, Impa held out a blue rupee, to replace the one Zelda had lost to the fake dare. She shook her head, refusing the money.

"I like Malon. She treats me like a normal person. And sometimes I just want to feel like a normal person for a change." As she said this, Zelda let her hood drop. The change was almost immediate. All around her, the people who had, for the last hour or so, paid her no mind or spoken to her as though she was any other townsperson, immediately stopped to stare, snapping to respectful attention. She looked up at her mentor, a wry, humorless smile curling her mouth. "See?"

Impa looked around them, gaze sharp and careful. "And you could not explain this to me before you snuck out?"

Zelda sighed, shaking her head. "Be honest, you would have insisted on coming with me. And everyone knows who you are, Impa. Everyone knows that if you are around, I am around. And there is no way you would have let me out on my own. Sneaking was the only option," she hung her head, "even if it didn't work."

"I might have let you go alone," Impa said causally, and Zelda was so shocked she tripped over nothing. Her guard steadied her with a quick hand and continued, "I might still allow it, provided you allow me to teach you some self-defense first."

Zelda mused on the proposition. Truthfully, she had wanted to learn swordplay for quite some time, but her father had always resisted. It wasn't 'ladylike,' he said, and she'd never need it, not with Impa around, especially not after last time, and she should be more focused on her other studies instead, like etiquette and accounting. Zelda hated accounting.

On the other hand, she knew Impa would be a harsh teacher. The older woman was stern, strict, and sharp as a whip. She expected perfection, and would accept nothing less. Zelda knew she would have to bury her pride and work harder than she ever had in her life. A heavy lump formed in her throat at the thought, but she swallowed it down as the even stronger desire to do _,_ to act, rose in its place.

"Do you mean it?" The words burst from her before she could hold them back.

"Do I mean what?" Impa gave her a rare, mischievous look.

"Do you mean it about teaching me swordplay?" They were at the castle gates, in earshot of the two guards stationed there.

"Why, your Highness, I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." But Impa winked at her as the gates opened. "I'll expect to see you this afternoon for an extra accounting lesson, as punishment for sneaking out."

"Yes, Impa…" Zelda's mouth was frowning and distraught, but her eyes were alight with excitement.

She was so excited, in fact, that she almost forgot all about the wolf boy, until she was readying herself for bed that night. The shrieking of an animal wafted from the darkness of Hyrule Field into the warm bubble of her bedroom, and she suppressed a shudder as she climbed under the covers.

'Stop it, Zelda' she scolded herself, 'you're being ridiculous. Malon's just telling tales again, and there's no such thing as wolf boys.'

That night, she tossed and turned and dreamed of red eyes watching her through the darkness.

.xxx.

She asked Impa about it the next morning, had she ever heard of a wolf boy roaming Lost Woods? If anyone were to know, Zelda reasoned, it would be Impa, Impa who had travelled far past the borders of the Hyrule, Impa who had seen places they didn't even draw maps of, and come back unscathed.

When she asked her question, however, Impa gave her a strange look and Zelda couldn't tell if it was because she was about to laugh or because she thought Zelda had hit her head and suffered irreparable brain damage.

"A… wolf boy in the Lost Woods? I can't say that's a tale that I've ever heard. Why do you ask?"

Zelda stamped down on the urge to scuff her feet and shrug, meeting Impa's gaze with a casual smile instead. "Malon told me about it, but I think she was just trying to frighten me."

"Well, wolf boy or no, I'd say we should get to work on your self-defense, Highness. That way if this monstrosity ever does come for you, you'll be prepared."

Zelda had nodded, determined. She would be ready for anything, she would train and train _hard_ , if only to gain a few days of freedom to be a normal girl. She would be prepared.

Only she wouldn't be, not at all.

.xxx.

"Impa knew you were lying last time, you know," Zelda felt the need to point this out to Malon, "About the dare. I didn't even need to tell her."

It was Zelda's first free day from the castle, Impa nowhere in sight and her father none the wiser. The sun beat down on the two girls as they strolled slowly through the market place. Underneath her cloak, Zelda grew hot and uncomfortable, but she felt it was the price to pay for her freedom, even as her muscles screamed from Impa's tough lessons.

Malon shrugged. "Of course she did. She's, like, psychic. Still kept you from getting into trouble, didn't I?" The older girl slung an arm around her friend's shoulders, careful not to disturb her hood.

This was why Zelda liked Malon so much. The girl spoke however she wanted to speak around Zelda, acted however she wanted to act; it made Zelda feel bold, like she could do anything she wanted, too. Even if it only lasted for an afternoon. On that particular afternoon, however, Zelda found herself feeling particularly courageous.

"So give me a real dare, then. Something exciting! Something… something dangerous." She grinned as she fiddled with the hilt of the short blade sheathed at her waist. It probably wouldn't be much use in an actual fight—not that Zelda would go around starting fights with her people, anyway—but it made her feel strong. Capable. Like a tested warrior, rather than a sheltered princess.

"Ooooh," Malon let go of her shoulders with a small squeal and danced around in a circle. "A real dare! Zelda's growing up so fast!" She put a fist to her mouth, thinking. "How about… on your next free day, you go to the woods and do battle with the wolf boy!"

Once again, Zelda's royal grace failed her and she tripped on nothing, squawking out a panicked "what?!"

But Malon was still grinning. "Okay, maybe not fight… but bring me proof of the wolf boy!" When she saw the Zelda's hesitation, she narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits. "That's the dare, your Highness _._ " She put particular stress on the last two words, and Zelda scowled. She knew that Malon knew how much she hated to be called by her title. It was formal and prissy, and made her feel even more self-conscious than she usually did. It was a challenge in and of itself, falling from Malon's mouth like the funniest, most acidic joke, and now Zelda absolutely, positively could not back down. "But… but what if I can't find proof of the wolf boy?"

"Hmm… then you have to help me muck the stables on your next ten free days! And if you _do_ find proof of him…"

"Then you have to do my accounting assignments for me… for the next ten weeks." Malon always had to do all the ranch's accounting for her father, and she was much better at mathematics than Zelda.

"What! Ten days to ten weeks? That doesn't seem very fair."

Zelda smirked from beneath her thick hood. "Well, I'm the one doing all the hard work, after all. Trekking to Kokiri Forest, entering the Lost Woods, finding a wolf boy, and making it back all in one day? You just get to laze about playing with Epona."

"Make it five weeks, and I'll let you ride Epona to the Lost Woods."

"Deal."

"Deal."

Two small hands shook on a bet, and Zelda felt something stir in her belly, something that felt equal parts excited and nauseating. It felt as though she had just agreed to something she shouldn't've, or crossed some secret line that had been hidden away for good—and for good reason. The feeling crawled up her ribcage to settle itself around her breast, like the hands of a _something_ —ghost or goddess, she wasn't sure—tying her to her fate. She tried to shake the feeling off but found she couldn't, not completely.

"What sort of proof will be enough to convince you?" She asked, as they bought watermelons from a fruit stand. The juice was cool and sweet and dribbled down her chin and throat, blunting the summer heat's sharp edge and chasing away the shadows in her mind.

Malon let out a soft hum, head tilted. "I dunno, a claw? A tooth? A lock of fur? Just something that screams 'wolf boy!' And don't try any funny business, Zel, 'cause I'll know if you're lying."

Zelda knew. She wasn't sure if it was the purity of Nayru's Wisdom or the fact that she blushed scarlet whenever she tried, but the princess had always been a terrible liar. It was part of the reason why she had snuck out the last time, rather than trying to invent an excuse for Impa. It would have been pointless, anyway.

Still, she sent a prayer up to Nayru for the next fortnight, that Impa would not be suspicious, that she would make it safely to the Lost Woods, that she would find proof of the wolf boy, and live to tell the tale.

And still, she dreamed of red eyes and reaching claws, waiting in the darkness.

.xxx.

When Zelda had been younger and the King had been less strict, Impa had been allowed to take her adventuring within the Lost Woods. Their adventures were never anything truly extraordinary, picking flowers and making daisy chains, and looking for the monkeys who sometimes came down from the trees to play, but it had been enough to instill a love of nature in Zelda, a respect for all that was green and alive.

But then Ganondorf had tried to kidnap her just before her ninth birthday, and if it hadn't been for Impa's reflexes and the fact that a mysterious note in a childish scrawl had arrived the previous week, warning of Ganondorf and his quest for power, Zelda didn't know what her life would look like now. The note alone had not been enough to convince anyone of the threat, but combined with the strange visions Zelda had been having leading up to her birthday, it had set Impa on high alert. In the wake of all that fear, however, her father—and Impa—had grown much more protective of her. She understood it, knew that she probably would have reacted in the same manner had she been Queen and her daughter the one in danger but…

Since those days, she began to feel that there was always something boiling just below the surface of her skin, some itch for action and adventure that she was never going to get, leading the royal life of a princess. She wanted to roam among the living green of the earth, to run through Hyrule's fields, to climb Death Mountain, to visit the Zoras and swim in Lake Hylia. She felt almost as though she had done all of those things, in some other life that now was not her own, and she wanted them back. She wanted to use her Wisdom to do something and, when she couldn't, she grew stifled and anxious.

It was why, as she passed into the cool, green shelter of the Lost Wood's shadow, she felt herself breathe a little easier. She knew her father would be furious—forget the wolf boy, Impa would probably be the one to skin her alive, instead—but the further she ventured from the castle and the deeper she wandered into the woods, the more at peace she felt. She could almost feel her piece of the Triforce sigh happily within her soul as her mind relaxed into a state of meditation. Where before she had been frightened, now she could see that there was no reason to be afraid. Even Epona, who had whinnied nervously all throughout the last half of their journey, grew calm and still as they fell into the shadow of the forest. Still, she sent the filly back to Lon Lon Ranch as they reached the entrance to the woods; Malon had taught her the song to call Epona back when she needed to return to the castle, and there was no reason to drag the poor little horse on a wild goose chase.

Zelda's footfalls were the only sound to feel out of place, disturbing the thick, earthen atmosphere that surrounded her. Passing through one tunnel, then another, Zelda could hear a distant flute—one of the Skull Kids, she assumed—and began to hum along with it. She had the ocarina with her, some strange, fuzzy feeling in her mind had prompted her to bring it, even before Malon taught her Epona's song, but she did not take it out, content to only use her voice for the time being.

When he appeared, it was as though he melted out of the very forest surrounding her. His footsteps made no sound, just as Malon had said, but he did not sneak up on her. Instead he stood directly in front of her, not ten paces away, watching and waiting.

The green of his tunic matched the woods, the blue of his eyes was unlike any color Zelda had ever seen, like the sky, only brighter; like the sea, only deeper, and so very serious. He looked far too grave for someone of his age. She felt the back of her hand begin to tingle in her glove, and tucked it within the folds of her riding cloak. Her Triforce had not flared in three years, not since Ganondorf's unsuccessful attack, and in that moment something painful and sudden tugged at her mind, like a molten ember and strangely, achingly familiar. It was sharp as an arrow and gone in an instant as she shook it away, choosing instead to focus on the boy in front of her.

No matter who he was, he was certainly no wolf boy.

"Hello," she said quietly. He nodded, blonde bangs flopping over his eyes with the motion. If she hadn't been watching him so carefully, if her eyes hadn't been trained on his face like they might never leave it again, she might have missed the way his cheeks pinked as he pushed the wayward strands away.

She took a careful step forward, not sure if he would disappear as quickly as he had come, if she were to draw closer. "I'm… looking for a wolf boy. My friend told me he haunts these words. Have you seen him by any chance?" The boy, whose name she felt she should knew and yet did not know, gave her an unimpressed look. With a sheepish shrug, she met his gaze. "It was a dare."

He shook his head, a strange, affectionate smile twisting his mouth, and she got the strangest sense that, just as he felt so unsettlingly familiar to her, she must seem strange yet familiar to him as well.

"Well," she was cheerfully undeterred by his silence, "then would you mind accompanying me to try and find him?" That same, slight smile flitted across his face, and he nodded. Something small and hot grew tight in Zelda's chest, those ghostly hands constricting as they had back in the marketplace, and they set off together.

It was nice to have a companion as she wandered through the woods; she knew them well enough from her childhood that the 'lost' part of the Lost Woods held no sway over her, yet she was still grateful for the company.

"They say," she began lightly, sensing a question in his silence, "that the wolf boy prowls these woods. They say that his footsteps make no sound, so that he can sneak up on unsuspecting travelers, and snap their necks." She peeked from the corner of her eye to see the boy watching her with an amused smirk. "You don't believe me? It's true! They say he skins his victims alive, and sucks the marrow from their bones. They say," she poked him carefully in the shoulder, unsure if she was overstepping a boundary, the crisp white of her glove stark against the earthen green of his tunic, "that he eats them for dinner."

The look he gave her was so affronted, so utterly disbelieving, that she had to burst out laughing. They spent the afternoon in such a fashion, Zelda prattling on about this and that, never mentioning who she really was, and the boy at her side always listening, always wordless.

"Well, it seems I've failed the dare," she groused as they eventually reached the edge of the woods once again. The sun was beginning to bleed toward the western horizon, and she knew it was time for her to go. "I don't suppose you've got anything that could convincingly pass as proof that I encountered such a beast?" She followed his hands—gloved, like hers—as they searched through the myriad of pockets he managed to keep on his person, then looked away, blushing and horrified, when she realized she'd been staring at his crotch.

If he noticed her sudden awkwardness, he said nothing—which she had quickly learned wasn't exactly unusual. Instead, he held out a tooth, long as her middle finger and glistening like a pearl.

She gaped, all embarrassment forgotten. "The tooth of a white wolfos? Where did you possibly manage to find one of these?"

He just shook his head, keeping to his silence.

"Well," she said, taking the tooth from him with great care not to drop it or stab herself, "if I were the one who had issued the dare, I would know this didn't come from a wolf boy. But Malon won't, and I suppose that's all that matters." She tucked the tooth away in the satchel she had brought with her, making sure it would stay put and she couldn't lose it. "Thank you for your help, …?" She trailed off, hoping to get a name, but yet again the boy shook his head.

Undeterred, she smiled at him. "May I see you again sometime?" Again, the small knot of heat rose in her throat, easing only when he gave her the slightest of nods. With an impish grin she couldn't help, Zelda readied to call Epona. But as she drew the ocarina from her satchel, she had only a moment to watch the boy's face grow pale, before he melted back into the forest and was gone, not so much a wolf as he was a ghost.

"Until next time…" she whispered to the leaves, then left the woods behind.

.xxx.

When she returned to the palace, she nearly collapsed in relief when Impa gave her only a cursory glance at dinner. It seemed her secret excursion was still, indeed, a secret and, after dinner, Zelda found herself in the library. It had been ages since she had gone there of her own volition; though she carried the Triforce of Wisdom, just after her ninth birthday and Ganondorf's arrest, she had felt a shift within herself. It was that same feeling that made her anxious and jittery when cooped up indoors, and it followed her through the library's entrance.

'The boy must be a Kokiri,' she mused. He'd certainly looked the right age to her, and he had seemed awfully nervous to leave the Lost Woods. The Kokiri couldn't leave the forest, she knew, but the Kokiri also had fairies, and she couldn't recall a tiny ball of light following the boy around, nagging for attention.

But if he wasn't a Kokiri, then what was he, or who? Sure, the Skull Kids roamed the Lost Woods, everyone knew that, but he was no Skull Kid. He had the pointed ears of a Hylian and has seemed so, so familiar. It was a muzzy familiarity, though, one that felt just beyond the grasp of Zelda's brain. It hurt to think about, a sharp yet dull ache, like lemon juice in a paper cut. She focused in on the pain, tried to push through it, but when her own pointed ears began to ring she stopped, rubbing her temples and shoving away the last of five books on the Kokiri that had each, in turn, afforded her no answers.

She went to sleep that night, dreaming of red eyes in her own face and a harp in her hands.

.xxx.

Two days later, when Malon demanded her proof, Zelda hesitated. Her fingers were carefully wrapped around the tooth in her pocket, but something stayed her hand. "I'm sorry, Malon," she heard her voice say, "I wasn't able to find the wolf boy." If Malon noticed anything unusual in her voice or expression, she said nothing, instead rejoicing in her victory, and the fact that the Princess of Hyrule would be mucking the stables with her.

It wasn't a lie, Zelda thought idly as Malon handed her a shovel and demanded she get to work. Her cheeks hadn't flamed as they usually did when she tried her hand at deceit, and her chest felt light with relief. She couldn't explain it, but Zelda wanted to keep that sad, green boy secret… to keep him hers.

But that was ridiculous, she berated herself as she and Malon busied themselves in the stable. A chance meeting with a strange boy didn't give her ownership of him. Yet there must be a reason why he lived alone in the woods, and she would not reveal him unless he wanted to be revealed.

Yet she still could not shake the thought, the word, _hers._

So cocooned was she in her thoughts that Zelda didn't hear Malon call her name the first four times. Finally, she snapped back to attention with a start.

"You sure you're okay, Zel?" Malon was watching her with a rare, genuine look of worry. "You're acting really weird."

"I'm fine, Malon."

"If you say so…" But her words had been too toneless to fool her friend, and Malon didn't sound convinced, "But you've been like a zombie all day. You sure nothing weird happened in the woods? Maybe a Skull Kid worked some funky voodoo on you or something?"

Zelda shook her head with a strained smile. "Nope, no Skull Kids. No Kokiri, either. Just me and my thoughts." _And things that felt like memories, but weren't_ , she added, but did not say aloud.

"Well," Malon shrugged, tossing her long, red hair over her shoulder, "maybe you should lay off the adventuring for a bit, then. Wouldn't do for the crown princess to get possessed or something, would it?"

A prickle of strangeness ran down Zelda's spine; not fear, exactly, but maybe foreboding. "No," she murmured, "no it would not."

She spent the rest of the afternoon wondering why the word 'Zant' kept running through her mind.

.xxx.

It took her four weeks to finish paying off her debt to Malon, and on the next day when she was allowed to roam free, she found her feet guiding her to the Lost Woods, not against her will but almost as though they could read her desire before she desired it. She couldn't borrow Epona again—not without Malon knowing, Malon who would ask too many questions—but she set off earlier than she had the last time, and arrived at just about the same time as before.

He found her more quickly this time, but she also sensed him first. The familiar warmth spread across the back of her hand and she hid it again as she turned to face him, just as he stepped into the clearing.

"Sorry," she apologized, not fully understanding why, "I… didn't want to give Malon the tooth. White wolfos are quite rare and… well, it doesn't matter. I had to spend my last few free days helping her clean out the stables." She wrinkled her nose. "It was not exactly a fun time."

The boy's eyes seemed lighter than they had been when she saw him last, and she was sure he would be laughing at her, if he chose to make a sound.

"Anyway," she clapped her hands together, "I was thinking we should keep looking for that wolf boy! I haven't given up hope of finding him, and maybe paying Malon back for the hard labor of the last few weeks."

It was a flimsy excuse, and her cheeks grew warm under the weight of his gaze and her own inability to lie. Yet still the boy strode closer and, with a mock bow, offered her his arm. She wore no gloves that day. His sleeves ended at the shoulder, and his skin was warm under her hand. As her fingers closed around one lean bicep, however, she felt a dull pressure rise within her skull, coalescing behind her eyes. For a moment, she swore she saw the same boy, dressed in green but older, standing before her with a broken look on his face as hands—her hands, but older, too—raised the ocarina to her mouth. And a word, a name, was on the tip of her tongue, something with an 'L' and if only she could just—

With a small yelp, both hands flew to her forehead where she clutched painfully, waiting until the ache behind her eyes subsided, and the vision with it.

"S-sorry," the word felt fuzzy in her mouth as she raised her eyes to his, his brows drawn tightly in concern or confusion, she couldn't tell. "It was just a small headache, I'm fine now."

But the boy did not offer his arm again, and she was careful not to touch him.

Instead they strolled through the soft green of the woods, side by side. Sunlight filtered just barely through the tall trees, casting their shadows in a strange, mossy glow. The silence and the muggy warmth lured Zelda into a peaceful sense of security.

"So, good sir," She looked at the boy's profile, "has there been any sign of the wolf boy since I saw you last?" He shook his head, gaze fixed resolutely in front of them, lips twitching at the corners. "Well, that's alright," Zelda shrugged, "I'll tell you a secret, if you promise to keep it safe."

He canted his head, looking at her with a wry expression. She knew it was a 'yes' without him saying it; the irony of the boy who would not speak sharing her secrets was not lost on her. "Good." She clasped her hands in front of her, "The secret is this: I couldn't care less about finding the wolf boy." He blinked at her, and she continued, "In fact, I don't think he even exists. I think Malon made it up… or misheard rumors of another boy living in these woods." The living thing under her skin, the thing that sometimes made her equal parts brave and reckless, made her say, "I think that boy is you, and that's the boy I'm interested in knowing."

There was a wariness in his face that he tried to hide behind a blank mask, even as his cheeks flushed, but Zelda saw it nonetheless. She was not deterred, however. She was a stranger to this boy, after all, and it was understandable that he might be cautious of her. Still, she felt better for having made her desires known.

"Would it be alright if I kept coming to visit you?" she asked as the silence stretched on, verging on uncomfortable, but only just. Finally, he met her gaze, eyes blue and deep and open with honesty. He nodded. "Good."

They continued their meandering way through the forest, and it reminded Zelda of her childhood excursions with Impa. Neither of her companions were verbose by any stretch of the imagination, and neither would wear the daisy-crowns she fashioned for them. The boy, to Zelda's great amusement, looked infinitely more appalled at the idea than Impa ever had, and she laughed until she almost cried at the horrified look on his face. Instead of leaving her to her daisy chains, he brought her to the small pond leading to Zora's domain, and watched as she splashed about, catching fishes with her hands and acting very much not the princess that she was. Afterwards, she stretched out in the grass to let her skirts dry in the warm, forest air. He sat a ways away, fiddling with a reed of grass, whistling a strange, mournful tune through it.

"Maybe you're more of a wolf boy than I thought," she spoke without thinking, and the music stopped. "I'm sorry, I just thought… your music sounded as though it could have been a wolfsong." Neither said anything for the rest of the afternoon, until Zelda felt the sun slowly sinking and gathered her belongings to head home.

"Well," they had reached the edge of the woods once again, and Zelda found herself wanting to say something but at a loss as to what it should be. The boy watched her with a small, affectionate look, and she was struck again with such a feeling of knowing, of familiarity with this strange, silent boy. "I..." she fumbled, then blurted, "Do you… _can_ you speak?" He shifted from foot to foot, glancing anywhere but at her face. When he finally did look her way again, he nodded.

"Yes." The word was quiet and hoarse, his voice clearly rusted from lack of use.

"And… and do you have a name?" The tight thing rose in Zelda's throat, the tiny knot of hope that emerged whenever she was unsure about this boy, this strange, green boy who she wanted to know even as she felt she already did.

He nodded again. "Maybe," he rasped, "maybe you'll get it next time." And even through the dull ache of a scratchy voice, she heard the tiniest of teasing lilts.

"Until next time, then," she said, and tried very hard not to laugh with relief.

.xxx.

The third time she went to visit him, Hyrule Field was nearly flooded from the rain. His look when he found her wandering among the trees, her cloak soaked through, heavy and useless, was one of exasperation.

"I'm sorry!" She shrieked, laughing as she ran toward him in the rain, and suddenly had the saddest wondering of why she was forever apologizing to him. It came more easily than anything else, and she felt that same, familiar tug at the back of her brain. It was a brief, dull ache which vanished when, with a strong arm around her shoulders in a futile attempt to shield her from the rain, the boy led her deeper into the woods.

"I'm sorry," she said again as they walked together, her breath puffing a small cloud of mist against his chin. "I had just been cooped up at home for so long, I needed to get out for a bit." She stopped herself from telling him how she always felt restless these days, jumpy in her own skin and afraid of shadows. She stopped herself from saying aloud how being with him calmed her, how she often felt that she _needed_ to see him, would fly apart into tiny specks of dust if she didn't. If Malon's friendship made her feel more normal, the boy's entire countenance made her feel more free, and she had no idea how to explain it, how to tell him as much without scaring him off.

He brought her to a small cave where a fire crackled cheerily within. It was warm and dry, and tucked away from the drizzle that had grown into a steady downpour.

"You live here?" She asked in wonder, "Doesn't it get cold in the winter?" He shook his head. "But… why not live with the Kokiri? They're a kind people, I'm sure they'd…" she trailed off as she watched his face turn hard and cold. The silence that fell in the wake of her words was awkward, at best.

"Ah, I see!" She tried to shake it off with a light laugh. "The Kokiri are too talkative for you! They wouldn't mind a silent, nameless boy living among them but you," she poked him carefully in the ribs, "you would be driven mad by their incessant chatter!"

He shook his head, eyes alight with a smile even if it didn't show on the rest of his face. "No?" She asked, "No that's not the reason, or no you aren't nameless? Because, I must say, with all this secrecy I'm beginning to think you've got some horribly embarrassing name, and you don't want anyone to know." It was a shot in the dark and she knew it, but she still had hope that it might be such a pitiful attempt to learn his name that he would give in.

He just chuckled, low and rusty. "Have to try harder than that, Highness," his voice was still a quiet rasp, and she looked at him agape. She had never told him who she was.

"How did you… did you know right away?" He nodded. That explained the awkward bow, and the offering of his arm. He was trying to be polite, genteel, but Zelda sensed that there was a teasing undercurrent, although mocking or in good fun, she could not determine.

"Well, then it's only fair I learn your name, seeing as you already know mine." He shook his head, and Zelda wanted very much to roll her eyes, but restrained herself. "Do you talk as little as possible as some sort of lifestyle choice, or can you just not speak more than a few words at a time?"

He shrugged.

"You… do know that's infuriating, don't you?"

He smiled. And Zelda, even in her frustration, was helpless against smiling back.

It took her three more visits, three more calm, quiet days of exploring the woods or relaxing by the water or climbing trees for her to finally learn his name. She had spent the day luxuriating in a patch of sunlight, feeling catlike, warm and satisfied, while he had whiled away the hours whittling small animals from driftwood.

With a contented sigh, Zelda stood and stretched limbs that were heavy with restful disuse. "Well," she glances over her shoulder at her quiet companion, "I should be getting back." She shivered as a cool, autumn wind whipped through the thick forest. "Collect some extra firewood for tonight, would you? It's starting to get colder, and I worry about you out here, all alone." At his slight nod, she smiled and turned to go.

A gloved hand wrapped around her wrist, so silent and so sudden that it caused her heart to lurch painfully within her chest. She did not move, did not dare take a step as the hope rose within her breast, coiled tight.

"Zelda," her name sounded strange and wonderful in his husky voice, leaving his lips for the first time. "My name… it's Link."

"Link," she said, trying it out on her own tongue. The pain in her skull rose so suddenly, so sharply, that she couldn't even sort through all the visions passing behind her eyelids before she was slumping forward in a dead faint.

She would never know that Link caught her before she hit the ground.

.xxx.

They didn't discuss it, mainly because Link's words were so few and far between, and Zelda refused to bring it up.

She had awoken the morning after her fainting spell to find herself tucked snugly into her bed with no recollection of how she got there. Impa told her she had been found in the gardens, asleep and burning with fever, and had then scolded her for being so foolish as to fall asleep, outside and in the rain.

Tucking this information away for later consideration, that the boy, that _Link_ , knew his way into and out of the castle, Zelda found her way to the library, a sick feeling twisting her insides. She knew the name 'Link,' she knew what it must mean.

But did he?

It made sense now, why her Triforce flared to life in his presence, but if he did not know who and what he was, he might not know what the heat along his hand meant. He might not know the legends, the history, the curse…

It was thoughts of the curse that pulled her up short, halfway through a history text on the sacred Picori Blade and Vaati, the immortal demon. She remembered the curse, of course, had had the words branded into her skull from the time when she had only just learned to walk and her favorite story had been of the Goddess and her Hero, their creation of Hyrule all those centuries ago, and the curse the demon king Demise laid upon all three of them. _It was not the end. His hate never perishes. It is born anew in a cycle with no end. He would rise again. Those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero are eternally bound to this curse. An incarnation of his hatred would ever follow their kind, dooming them to wander a blood-soaked sea of darkness for all time._

At the time, she had found it vaguely romantic, destinies intertwined forever and history repeating itself. Now, she was simply horrified.

If the Link that she now knew, who shared the same name as Hylia's hero, was _the_ Link, the hero of her generation, she could not subject him to that fate. She would not subject him to Demise's curse. The only real threat of her lifetime had been Ganondorf, who was executed shortly before her tenth birthday; she and Link would be safe from his evil machinations. There was no reason to drag Link into a world that would ask so much from him, demand everything he had to give, and give nothing back.

And so they did not discuss it, though Link looked both surprised and a little angry when she came to visit him a few days later. If he had been a boy of more words she thought he might have lectured her, or at the very least questioned her sanity, but she just grinned brightly at him, and asked if they could go fishing again.

In the face of her obvious avoidance he simply chuckled, that strange, affectionate smile twisting his mouth, and she knew that, even if he did not truly know, he must sense somewhere deep down who, and what, he was. Who, and what, she was, and what they were to each other.

And so they went fishing, and wandering, and exploring the expansive woods. He mocked her royal status in his subtle, silent way, and she groused and grumbled about the very silence he wore like armor. Yet even for all her griping, she found she could read his silences quite easily. She knew when his silence was the quiet of someone who did not want to speak, just as she knew when there was a question in his mind that he would not ask. She sensed when he wanted her to explain something further, just as she felt in her very core when he was lost in his own thoughts, far away from where she could reach him, and so very, very sad.

The more time she spent with Link, though, the more her life away from him began to unravel. Some days, she looked at Malon and thought she saw a stranger in her place. Some days she glanced in the mirror and was startled to find blue eyes instead of red. At times, she thought she should be living high above the clouds, and at others she was surprised to awaken without the gentle swaying of a ship beneath her feet.

It felt like memory. It felt like prophecy. Zelda felt as though she was going mad.

And so, to stave off the visions of insanity, she let her life fall into an easy pattern. She visited Link as often as she could, ignoring the way Malon and Impa grew suspicious of her frequent disappearances. His silence was balm to her soul, and she soaked it up, forever apologizing to him for things she could not begin to understand. With him, she felt safe, and free, and bold. Away from him she felt the madness creep in. Years passed, and she learned to accept it.

At fourteen, she gave him her ocarina, explaining that it no longer felt like it should belong to her. He took it with trembling hands, a look on his face that she could not decipher, awe and reverence and maybe something like disgust.

At fifteen, she began bandaging her hands, and could not fathom why.

At sixteen, she realized she loved him.

And at seventeen, she remembered.

She awoke screaming, hands fisted at her temples, writhing in pain as images flashed behind her eyelids. She saw the gardens, a young boy, and Ganondorf through the window. She saw the spiritual stones, an escape on horseback, an ocarina thrown into the moat. She saw seven years of training, her delicate hands molded into the hands of a man— _Sheik_ —and saw the Hero finally wake. She saw dungeon after dungeon, trial and trial, a harp in her hands and her only ability to help in her pitiful attempts at guiding the young man before her. She saw him grow tall, and small, and tall again, and eventually saw a crumbling tower, and a hideous beast rising from the rubble.

She saw Link's great triumph, and then her own, personal failure.

She saw herself send him back, attempt to return to him the life he had lost, but maybe never truly had to begin with. She saw herself try to make things right, saw herself make the choice for him in the face of his betrayed expression.

All those recent years that she knew who he was, had tried to protect him from a fate to which she had already subjected him, all those years of trying to hide him when she had already abandoned him, years ago, and years in the future, and years that had never happened but _had_. She had led him to a life, a future where the world did nothing but take and take and take from him, a world that gave nothing back, nothing at all to the hero that saved it. Worst of all, she had tried to make it right by taking the only thing he had, his destiny, away from him for good.

And she had done it again, unknowingly, attempting to make choices about his life and future for him. In _this_ time which was not his time, not really, she had tried to keep him from a future that had already happened, forcing him into further obscurity.

She remembered all the times they had loved each other, in timelines that had happened and not, timelines that were long gone and timelines that would come to pass, and her heart broke as she realized that she had abandoned him first and worst. And she had only just remembered.

She wondered why the Goddesses would jest so, to gift her with Wisdom and foresight, only to have that very same wisdom fail when her hero needed it the most. She saw his future laid bare before her eyes, saw him becoming a Shade of the proud man he once was, and she wept as much for his selfless, broken soul as for her own selfish stupidity.

This, she prayed, was a future she could prevent. She owed him at least that much.

.xxx.

It was nightfall by the time she reached the cave, sneaking out once again and uncaring about the lecture she would receive from Impa. He met her at the cave's entrance, always aware of her, always waiting, and she wondered how she had been so blind for so long. A fire burned behind him, casting his face into shadow, but she could see enough in the darkness to know that he knew, or guessed, why she had come. She took his hands in hers and, for a long moment, could not speak. His were hands that had become familiar to her over two separate lifetimes; her own were as unfamiliar as a foreign wind.

"Link," she finally asked, his fingers warm within hers as they twined together, "Link, have you remembered?" His face, already shadowed, grew darker, haunted. His next words took something inside of her and crushed it into dust.

"I never forgot." His look was not accusing, but she felt the hot flush of shame flood her cheeks, felt nauseous horror cement itself in her stomach. For all that she was wise, she was also blind, and she saw the truth that had been hiding in plain sight for years. He had known her, had always known who she was, because he had never forgotten her in the first place. Her wish to give him back his seven lost years had failed, wholly and completely.

"Then how can you not hate me?" She asked, her voice a fragile, splintering thing, "After everything I've asked of you? After everything I've done?"

He shook his head, mouth twisting in a sad smirk. "Wisdom was your gift, courage mine. I am the sword that shapes the world as you see fit."

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that _she_ was wrong, that they were both so, so wrong and that they were people with choices, free will. She wanted to tell him that they forged their own destinies, but her own failed actions and all the lifetimes she had seen in her mind's eye choked the words in her throat.

They were two tiny cogs in the Wheel of Time, fit only to carry out their roles in this time, and the next, and the next. Zelda knew this and trembled.

And then she was pulling him to her, apologies pouring from her mouth even as she brought her lips to his. He swallowed her every word and, even as he kissed her, she had no way of knowing if she was forgiven.

"I'm sorry," she gasped against his mouth, "I'm so sorry that I couldn't stay away in this time."

"No," he growled, and maybe he had a bit of wolf in him after all, "No. Stay with me," his voice hoarse and breaking as she held him close, and she heard within his words the strength and pride of her hero, and the tiny, broken spirit of the young boy who had been abandoned by everyone, and her most of all. Tears slid down her cheeks to dampen his shoulder, but she dared not cry for herself, only for the soul that she had done her share in wounding.

"Stay with me," he said again.

"Yes," she breathed, "in this time, and the next, and the next."

 _.Fin._

 **AN:** Why hello there! Thanks for reading. This was written for the prompt challenge my two friends, **SpaceNugget11** and **junealondra** , and I do on-and-off. I'm a longtime lurker in the LoZ fandom and I figured it was probably time to get my feet wet. So... let me know how I did? Constructive criticism is always appreciated, but only in the form of a review! ^.^


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